


Casual Conversation

by draculard



Series: Nightthrawn 15 Day Ficlets [1]
Category: Star Wars: Thrawn Series - Timothy Zahn (2017)
Genre: Enemies to Friends, Ficlet, Insomnia, International Fanworks Day 2021, Long Distance Nemeses, M/M, Rarepair, hurt/comfort vibes, standalone fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-12 14:28:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29386314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/draculard/pseuds/draculard
Summary: Every now and then, Thrawn gets an untraceable call from an unlikely source.
Relationships: Nevil Cygni | Nightswan/Thrawn | Mitth'raw'nuruodo
Series: Nightthrawn 15 Day Ficlets [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2158710
Comments: 5
Kudos: 20





	Casual Conversation

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Prompt #1, "Easy."
> 
> Come say hi on tumblr, I'm draculard there too

There’s no way to trace the call. Thrawn’s tried it himself, and he’s handed off the encryption code to the Empire’s best technicians — or at least, the best available to a nonhuman captain — but they’ve had no luck so far. 

“The good news is, we can’t trace him, but he can’t trace us, either,” the technician told Thrawn in his latest report. 

This doesn’t comfort Thrawn. It assumes that Nightswan and his allies have access to technology equal to or less than the Empire’s. This is a safe assumption to make, but not a guarantee. The wise thing to do would be to ignore the calls.

But his holopod lights up and he finds himself answering anyway. 

Thrawn settles into his chair, the lights dim, the hour late enough that he should by all rights be in bed. But he finds himself pressing the play button regardless. As usual, Nightswan’s camera is turned off. The message is pre-recorded, could have been composed five minutes or five weeks ago. His voice, low and steady, is close to the microphone, the sound of gentle rain falling in the background.

Thrawn closes his eyes, lets Nightswan’s voice wash over him. Everything he says is carefully guarded; he speaks of recent news broadcasts, his analysis of the political situation on Coruscant, the Imperial Navy’s recent moves. All of it is public access information, carefully curated to give nothing away about Nightswan’s sources; there’s nothing Thrawn can glean from this excerpt except that wherever Nightswan is — out of a million places in the galaxy — he has access to the Holonet, and there is rain.

No point in listening to him, Thrawn tells himself. No point for Nightswan to call. But as Thrawn listens, he feels the tension gradually disappear from his shoulders, feels himself grow closer and closer to relaxation, to sleep. He can tell from the gravelly quality of Nightswan’s voice that he’s tired, too; can tell from the pitch and depth of his breaths that he’s lying down. In bed then, staring up at the ceiling, his recorder held close to his lips. Talking to his enemy to lull himself to sleep.

Does this make them friends? It’s been so long since Thrawn’s spoken to anybody openly that his chest aches and he leans closer to the holopod by instinct, as if seeking warmth. 

When Nightswan’s monologue peters out, Thrawn flips the switch on his holopod and turns it off. He stares at the scatter of blue dust for a moment, eyes heavily lidded, face weary. His chest expands in a slow, deep, contemplative breath.

Sleep can wait. He turns the holopod back on, sets it to record. Nightswan made several good points which deserve acknowledgment, and several more which require correction. He shuts the camera off and adjusts the microphone.

Nightswan is, for better or worse, an easy man to talk to.


End file.
